


Wizard's Best Friend

by Luthien



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: Telanu gave me the prompt "bedroom slippers", and this was the result.





	Wizard's Best Friend

It happens one cold winter night. The Scamander is distracted, as he so often is, his mind on every other creature but himself. He works in his wooden den, preparing food, concocting things that are not-food but which he pours down the throat of creatures who are unwell.

Dougal tries very hard never to be unwell.

The Scamander is clad in his usual coverings, red-furred head and pale pink hands poking out of the appropriate openings, but the bottoms of his leg coverings are damp and his feet are bare. Dougal places a finger carefully against the Scamander’s heel—and the Scamander jumps in surprise. Dougal is ready for that, of course; it was the most likely outcome. He’s out of the way, out of sight and right out of the wooden den before the Scamander realises who has touched him.

The Scamander’s skin was ice cold to the touch, just as Dougal had suspected. He knows what he has to do now.

He ascends the ladder, taking care to make no noise. Invisibility only deceives the eyes, after all, and the Scamander has proved to have remarkably acute hearing—for a wizard—on more than one occasion in the past.

Dougal creeps up and over the top of the ladder, and then he’s out in the other world of The Room.

Finding the foot coverings is easy. The Scamander is extremely predictable in his behaviour and habits, and the wardrobe where the coverings live is not even locked.

Deciding _which_ foot coverings is not easy at all. There are the boots, of course, brown and worn, but supple. Over time they’ve shaped themselves to the Scamander’s feet and Dougal knows them well. But the Scamander usually puts them on his feet in the morning. They are the foot coverings for going out into the world in the daytime. The Scamander should not be doing that now.

Not the boots, then.

And then there are the foot coverings with the laces, all shiny and black, with tiny holes pierced in a pattern on the topside. Sometimes, Dougal likes to turn invisible and see if he can pull the lace completely free of one shoe before the Scamander, busy tying the lace on the other, even notices. Dougal suspects that the Scamander doesn’t really enjoy the game as much as Dougal does, but he never grows angry or violent. He doesn’t yell or curse. After a while he will smile, a stern smile but still a smile, and then say Dougal’s name in a firm tone of voice, and Dougal knows that it’s time to let the Scamander go about his business.

The laced foot coverings are for going out into the world at night, though, and Dougal doesn’t want the Scamander to do that. The Scamander has had a long day and a tiring one. He needs warmth and rest.

Which leaves one last set of foot coverings.

They’re nothing like any of the other foot coverings. The Scamander usually wears coverings of sober, unassuming hues on his feet when he goes out into the world, but these are not for going out into the world. They’re a deep red, like a perfectly ripe apple, or one of the strawberries that Dougal sometimes gets as a special treat in the summer. The foot coverings do not taste like strawberries, or even like apples. Dougal checked once, just to be sure.

The foot coverings did not taste like food, which was disappointing, but probably just as well. They were soft, Dougal remembers, softer even than the rug covering the floor in The Room. He takes one carefully in his hand. It _is_ soft, soft enough to stroke like a Kneazle. And the end of it, beyond the place where the Scamander’s big toe should fit, curls up like a leaf or a petal not yet quite unfurled. Dougal imagines that the curls might get in the way, were one to try to walk far in them.

The Scamander would _never_ go out into the world in these!

Dougal grabs up both foot coverings and, careful to close the wardrobe door first, scampers back to the ladder and the wooden den below it.

He finds the Scamander in the den, but he’s sitting in the chair, quiet and still, instead of his usual flurry of activity. His eyelids droop, and he looks weary.

“And what have you been up to?” the Scamander asks, eyebrows raised as he watches Dougal reach the bottom of the ladder, but then he smiles, just as he always does. “You know you’re not supposed to go out of the case without me.”

Dougal climbs up into the Scamander’s lap and drapes one long arm around his neck.

“Now that’s just not fair, when I’m trying to be firm with you,” the Scamander says, but he buries his face in Dougal’s soft fur for a moment, and Dougal strokes the Scamander’s fur in turn. Then he untangles himself from the Scamander’s embrace and jumps down.

“What are you-“ the Scamander begins, and then he sees the foot coverings, set out neatly beside his cold, bare feet. “My Turkish slippers. You got them for me.” The Scamander’s familiar smile appears on his face again, but this time it’s different. This time, it is accompanied by moisture in the Scamander’s eyes.

Dougal chitters gently in dismay. This was not the most likely outcome. The Scamander should be happy to have the warm coverings for his feet, but moisture in the eyes is a sign of distress.

The Scamander swallows once, and then again. “Thank you, Dougal,” he says softly, and wipes his fingers across one eye. He’s still smiling, so perhaps the moisture means something other than distress in this case? “You’re a true friend.”

Yes, that definitely sounds better. It’s a positive response. Dougal closes his eyes, relieved, and when he opens them again he finds the Scamander watching him, looking less weary somehow—but his feet are still bare!

Dougal takes up one of the foot coverings and taps it against the Scamander’s knee.

“Yes, I suppose I should put them on, since you’ve gone to all this trouble to bring them to me,” the Scamander agrees. “And perhaps I should go upstairs and put on some dry trousers while I’m at it.” He slips the foot coverings onto his feet and sighs in what sounds like pleasure. Relief. Comfort. He holds out his arms to Dougal, who scrambles back up into them. “Let’s see if we can find some strawberries for you. I know they’re out of season—but it’s not winter everywhere in the world right now.”

At the sound of the word “strawberries”, Dougal holds on tight and purrs in anticipation.  The Scamander never mentions strawberries lightly. Strawberries are serious business, almost as serious as the business of keeping the Scamander safe and well—and warm.

 


End file.
